


Way Back When

by orphan_account



Category: Wanted (2008), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Carrying, Children being adorable, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:44:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a child, Charles could be all manner of clumsy. It was a good thing Wes was always there to pick him back up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Way Back When

_::Is this really necessary?::_

The words appear in Wesley’s mind like a wisp of smoke, present but intangible. He chances a look to where Charles is cradled in his arms, nose crinkled indignantly as Wes carries him bridal style towards the house.

He doesn’t bother trying to fight down the smirk.

“Well if you learned to run properly like the rest of us perhaps you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Wesley replies aloud, taking extra care to interject a condescending tone that never fails to irritate his brother. “As it is, you’re an idiot - so suffer.”

He gives him a purposeful jostle and watches with rising amusement as Charles bristles, crossing his arms against his sweater clad chest defiantly.

 _::Still, a piggy back would have sufficed::_ Charles releases an embarrassed whine. _::This is so humiliating::_

Wesley just snorts, takes a panting breath as he jogs up a couple of stone steps leading into the back garden, making sure not to accidently bump Charles’ injured foot as he rounds a corner.

They still have about 5 minutes before they reach home.

“Well then maybe you’ll learn to stop falling over so much.” He gives his Other a wide grin before sending _::Consider this punishment::_ along their ever present connection.

Charles thumps his chest petulantly, and Wesley tries not to chuckle as he exhales in a pained wheeze. 

_::Punishment? It’s a little bit much, isn’t it? This can’t be easy for you either, toting me about::_

Wesley’s next stop falters but he doesn’t let it break the rhythm of his stride.

The thing is? It is easy. Easier than it should be at least.

Wesley has been carrying his brother for over 10 minutes now, making his way through the family estate from where they had been running and rolling in the tall grass of the hills. He should be struggling, and yeah he’s sweating a bit, the pits of his t-shirt damp - but the act itself isn’t strenuous, not as it bloody well should be.

He wants to say it’s due to his strength, the power in his legs, the muscles in his arms. But he knows the truth.

It’s not that he is strong but that Charles is weak, physically at least. Since Charles’ telepathy kicked up, Wesley can’t remember a time when a meal to him didn’t consist of more than a few bites.

He felt fragile in his grip, the jut of his shoulder sharper than it had any right to be. He was light, dreadfully light and Wesley didn’t want for more than him to be the healthy cherub cheeked boy he used to be before voices began to invade his mind.

It was a rare day that Wesley didn’t despise Charles’ gift, not for what he could do with it, but for what it did to his elder brother.

He feels a wetness at his cheeks and Wesley belatedly realizes that he’s crying. He blinks back from his musing and tries to wipe at his face, halted by the fact that Charles is still wrapped up in his arms.

They’ve stopped. They're just outside the patio doors.

A wash of regret dredges over him, a particularly blue feeling that laps at his senses in soft waves.

Charles is peering up at him with sad eyes, leaning up in Wesley’s grip until his arms can wrap comfortingly around Wes’ head, a gentle kiss extinguishing a stray tear on his cheek.

“It’s better when you’re mind’s close,” Charles whispers as he nestles into his neck, snuggling a little though he’s likely to deny it.

_::I can just lose myself in you:: ___

__Breathing deeply through his nose, he holds off on another flood of tears as the unique warmth of Charles’ affection burrows itself into the very marrow of his bones._ _

__With a soft sigh, he leans down brush his lips against Charles’ freckled nose - an act between them as habitual as giving a greeting with ‘hello’ - juggles a bit to open the double doors (Charles giggling into his throat at his frustrated growls) and leads them inside._ _


End file.
